His Picture
by wiccademon
Summary: Harry finds a picture in Sirius' old room. Story depicts that follow said day. Contains a NEW warning since my earlier on didn't seem to be enough for some viewers: WARNING: HARRY IS SEVERLY BI IN THIS STORY... sorry to those who hate that.


**A/N**: It's come to my attention that not many people understand the over all point of this story. First of all the reason the story is so jumpy is because it's suppose to reflect the emotions felt by the characters in the story (Mainly Harry) and yes I do have Harry as **BI!!!! **I do like the harsh review and I guess my WARNING should have been **BIGGER** and MORE meaningful... so sorry to those who where "creeped" out by the malexmale scene near the end of the story... I am SORRY it **OFFENDED** some readers, but hey I'm not here to **PLEASE** everyone out there, if I did then I wouldn't be original.

TO Lija: Sorry my story pissed you off, I hope my **RE-WRITE **of the overall **warning** and what not satisfies your need for a BETTER warning...

Also I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARATERS.

**WARNING:** Contains HARRY AS A **BI-SEXUAL**... the scene is **graphic** so for viewers who don't like that sort of stuff... **COVER YOUR EYES**. Everyone else please enjoy and leave a review

* * *

November.

It was snowing outside. Big fluffy flakes; cold and clean upon the street; not a print to mare the flawless surface. A contrast to how Harry was feeling that morning.

It had been a year since he'd set foot in this house. Last month he'd come here determined to make a life for himself. Determined to do something.

"Today's the day then." He says to no one.

On the dresser he takes his clothes from, sits a row of pictures. All the faces smiling out at him and the room, all of them hiding past horrors.

There are people missing. There always will be, but he can't help but feel like they've never left.

Ginny turns over in the bed and looks over at Harry in his grey v-sweater and simple black sweats. She sighs sitting up in bed. Her bare back is to him and her hair is swept over her left shoulder. He loves how long she's let it grow. His red silk.

He grabs the robe from the chair next to the window. Ginny's eyes are half closed as he passes the robe to her.

"Thanks" She replies groggily.

"No problem."

The room is quiet for moments as if in a dream. Then Ginny shrugs her arms into the robe and looks up at him with tired eyes.

"You don't have to go up there you know. If you're not ready." She hesitates on the last sentence. Her voice is soft like the snow falling outside past the window.

"No… I want to."

Ginny looks at him and smiles, comfort and understanding written in that look.

"Then you should eat something first." Ginny brushes past him, her eyes half closed still. Harry watches her with a calm look upon him as Ginny walks into the attached bathroom. She leaves the door ajar. It's her invitation to him. Though he doesn't take it.

~*~

Downstairs the kitchen is still asleep. Harry ignores his wand and starts the fireplace manually. After a few minutes he has a good fire going and has all the lights turned on.

The cupboards are near empty, but the fridge he has installed, has what he's looking for. Harry grabs a frying pan and cooking oil from the lower cupboards.

The eggs pop happily at him as he cooks. Harry found that he was a natural cook, making self comments on his own cooking skills. _I'm a master chief and this is my domain! I rule this place, bwahahahaha. _His irony from the past.

He doesn't find the coffee beans, so he gives in and uses his wand. His breakfast is solitary. Ron isn't a morning person like he is and Hermione stayed up reading. This knowledge would give him a few minutes of peace and time to collect his conviction.

Nothings seemed to have changed. Harry smiles the first time that morning.

As Harry's cleaning his dishes; by hand; he finally hears the rest of the world waking up. A muggle car door closes as another passes by the house. _First marks of the day. _Harry thinks absentmindedly.

Ron burst through the kitchen door beaming to all the world. Harry was so use to his sudden entrances that he didn't even jump at Ron's sudden appearance.

"Hey, 'arry." Ron yawns.

"Hey… Coffee?"

"Mmm, yes please."

Ron settles in to make toast and takes out another pan. Soon the kitchen is filled with sizzles and pops. Harry and Ron occupy the time with light chatter on nothing specific.

As Ron butters his second helping of toast, Hermione bursts through the door.

"Merlin I'm late!" She exclaims glancing around and spotting Ron's coffee and toast descends upon it. "Mmm, Thanks sweety."

Arms still up as if Ron still held his mug and toast, he raises his eyebrows at her. She snickers, presses a kiss to his lips, waves to Harry then flees the house for work.

Harry snorts into his coffee mug.

~*~

The house is quiet again. Ginny is down in the future library putting Hermiones books away. She'll be there all morning but she's doing it only because she knows what Harry has to do right now; he has to do it alone.

So there he was after saying good-bye to Ron after breakfast. Third Floor, in front of _his_ door. Two years ago he stood here. The longing Harry felt then was still there. _His _death was fresher then. If Harry had walked through this door two years ago he probably would have torn the room apart. _Why did you leave me? Why were we such fools? Why couldn't you have stayed behind? _Harry still had these words burning a hole in his gut. Yet now the hole was only the size of a needles head.

Harry sighed again, stepped forward and turned the cold brass handle to _his_ room.

~*~

The room was muggy, he could taste the dust in the air. It was grey everywhere he looked. His steps muffled by the layer of dust left prints to the window. As the midmorning light spilled across the untouched surfaces, Harry coughed.

"This room needs to be cleaned."

So that's what he did. The bed sheets where vanished, the molding straw cleaned away, the bare walls scrubbed clean. Harry worked and worked till he felt every bone in his body begin to ache.

When every inch of floor gleamed and every surface reflected his face, Harry was numb. So numb that as he began removing _his_ things from the dresser, he had to double take in order to see the small paper that had fluttered out of his hands.

Bending down he froze. It wasn't a paper. It was a picture. Harry dropped the items in his hands on top of the bare bed. He reached gingerly to the picture and flipped it over.

There _he_ was looking up from a park bench, smiling. _He_ looked years younger, almost Harry's age. Leaves were falling and one fell onto _his_ hair. She reached over and removed it for him and _he_ looked at her as she pulled her arm away calmly. _He _smiles at her and catches her hand before she rests it in her lap. They look at each other as if the whole world has fallen away and they were the only two people there. It was the same look Harry gave Ginny every morning he woke before she did. The same look Harry had seen Ginny give him when she thought he wasn't looking. It was the look of raw pure love. It was a look of true love.

Harry had never seen this woman before, yet something about her was awfully familiar. So he tucked the picture away. There was too much left to do to stop now. _"I'll find that woman and return the picture."_ _"That will help keep my mind off things." _

Still numb, Harry went back to his work. He brought boxes up for the things he would get rid of, put aside things he would keep and all the while he would take out the picture and look at it. Nothing else, just look at it.

He looked at it until at the end he had the woman's face memorized in his mind's eye. He would find her, he would tell her _his_ story and he would move on with things. Harry needed to do just that. Move on.

* * *

She directed him into a sitting room which had one wall rounded and the other walls straight. There was tea waiting for them as if she had already known Harry was coming. The room was so cozy, like a cottage, he felt out of place with his news. _"How could I come here and disrupt such a warm loving environment?" _

Yet there Harry sat in a plush arm chair across from his hostess, the unnamed woman in the photograph. They had yet to have an introduction of names, but it seemed there wouldn't have to be. For the older woman looked Harry straight in the eye. Her dark chocolate eyes revealing nothing her words did.

"Before you tell me anything Mr. Potter," She leaned forward and grasped the tea pot handle and began pouring out two cups. "I thought it only polite to tell you that your dear friend Mrs. Granger forwarded a letter to me a week ago. She expressed a concern that I feel was unnecessary on her part, but I do understand her feelings." She gestured to the sugar and milk on the table. Harry shook his head to both.

He took his warm tea, reflectively took a sip. "What else did she tell you?" Curiosity and fear battled behind Harry's calm manner.

She took a sip of her tea as if imitating him. "Nothing else."

Harry felt both relief and still fearful. He didn't want anyone to take his words away from him before he had a chance to tell them. He needed this. He wanted this.

Harry swallowed the rest of his tea savoring the burn it left all the way down his chest and all the way to his soul.

The picture was there, he didn't conscienciously know when he pulled it out, but there it was. She watched him place it on the dark oak coffee table between them. She didn't say anything as she took it on her own hands, a gesture that lifted such a weight from Harry's chest. He let out a slow sigh then, as if he were diving into dark water, he plunged into his memories.

~*~

He told her everything he knew and something's he learned over the years. She listened intent on his words presenting him with more tea when his voice grew horse.

After what felt like ages, Harry stopped. That's when the numbness turned into a tingle that started at the tips of his fingers. It crept along his arms, across his chest, down his spine, his legs and finished at the edge of his toes. When it finished with him, the tears came. Tears he thought he had finished shedding so many years before. His body shook, a gentle hand touched his shoulder, then arms encased him in a mother's knowing embrace.

Long moments passed before Harry could breath calmly again. He looked at her knowing eyes, eyes as red as his must have been. Then a voice broke the silence. A young man's voice.

"I'll go make something for us to eat." It did not shake, but you could hear a sadness that only those in that room could have shared.

"Thank you, Paris." Her voice was a mere whisper next to Harry's ear.

Harry turned only in time to see the young man's back retreating down the hallway.

* * *

September

The Academy wasn't a difficult school to be in. Harry liked it there. Everyone treated him like a normal person. It was refreshing.

He lived with his friend Ron's family for the first few months before school. When the first thought of moving back to _his_ house came to Harry, Ron had mentioned asking Hermione to move into a place with him.

It was compulsive, completely without a second thought till it was out.

"What about Grimmwald Place?"

The question had caught all parties off guard, but it had stuck and they all had moved in.

Looking back at that conversation from five months ago as he carried the last box down to the entrance hall, Harry truly wondered how long he must have wanted to move back in here. He set the box down, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and without thinking about it pulled the picture from his back pocket.

Already it was beginning to crease. Frowning, Harry straightened the corners with his fingers gingerly.

"Is everything alright?" Ginny's voice pulled Harry away from the picture. He looked up at her from where she leaned over the banister to look down at him.

"Yeah, just going to make lunch… Want anything?" He smiled up at her and slipped the picture back into his pocket.

Beaming Ginny nods her head. "Yes!" Her smile was seductive.

Harry grinned, they wouldn't be eating much food today.

~*~

That evening as the four of them ate muggle Chinese take-out, Harry pulled out _his_ picture and set it in the middle of the table. It was the centre piece Harry had been searching for. Yet he knew it wouldn't stay there for long.

"Where did you find this?" Hermione inquired moving a Chinese food box out of her line of view.

"In his room."

Ron coughed on his rice and Hernione dropped her chop-sticks into her soy sauce to pat his back.

"Ah, so… you finally did it." She commented quietly, her face held so many emotions, but sympathy was prominent out of all of them.

Ron put hid fork down on his plate, his chin rested on his left hand as he looked Harry in the eye.

"Yeah… I figured it was about time."

Hermione plucked the picture from the table. She looked at the picture as if it was a new book she was contemplating to buy.

"Well I don't recognize her, so she can't be anyone in the ministry." She passed the picture to Ron.

"Hmm, maybe mum or dad can tell us something."

"We can ask them tomorrow." Ginny leaned forward and took the photo from her brother. "I think I might have a frame this can fit in."

Harry looks at her and the beast in his belly purrs.

~*~

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't know who the woman in the photo was. Bill didn't know either. Percy offered to bring copies to the ministry's various departments. But all around, no one could tell who the woman was.

"They look so much in love." Mrs. Weasley commented when the picture was passed around the third time along the table. "You would think he would have told us something." She sighed.

Harry looks up from his plate. It wasn't the first time since the war had ended that Harry had regretted getting to know his God-Father as well as he could have. There were so many questions that would always remain unanswered. The hole in his chest stretched out painfully.

The meal continued in this patter. All the older members of the now disbanded Order offered different stories of _him_ from years ago. None gave any evidence that _he_ had been involved with anyone.

It continued on like this for the rest of the week. Harry was afraid that everyone; not only himself; was beginning to obsess over the picture too much. After all it was a time long before Harry and who knew if the woman was even alive. Yet on it went.

~*~

Harry was sitting up in bed a textbook propped up on his knees. He was watching heavy flakes fall past his window to the frozen ground for the third day in a row. It was becoming a therapeutic rhythm for him. White lines across a grey blue morning sky. Early mornings, lazy morning sex, and then absentmindedly glancing at the new addition atop the dresser.

The frame Ginny placed the picture in was simple black with a metallic stand. It fit perfectly and it looked at home in the frame. _They _looked at home.

"You're staring again."

Harry jumped slightly, sighed and looked down at Ginny where her head rested on her pillow. She looked deliciously tousled as if she just woke after having crazy, wild sex all night, when really is only happened a half hour ago.

"Yeah, I know." Harry sighs lightly and looks back at the picture.

"You know they say that if you stare at a photo long enough the people come right out of them and tweak your nose." Her voice was playful and she knew Harry would catch on to what she had said. Eventually.

"Yeah, I know."

They had gone through this routine during so many mornings in the past few months, that Ginny's comment didn't kick in right away.

Wordlessly Harry closed his textbook and gently placed it on the night stand. Shrieking laughter filled the room for the next ten minutes.

Little breathless and red faced the pair came downstairs fully dressed and prepared with a few new photo theories. Ron was evidentially still in bed since Hermione was enjoying a solitary breakfast. She glanced up at them over her paper when they walked in. A knowing look on greeted them. They were all well past the whole awkward morning sex situations, where other parties over heard such activities. Now they just had the awkward moments in a general silence.

"We heard you pretty clearly this morning." Hermione's comment came from behind a wall of newspaper.

"Sorry." The pair exclaimed in unison. All theories that day were clearly forgotten.

* * *

It was pale blue with a faded white trim on the doors and windows. The roof was a silver grey. Two floors, what looked to be an attic window and a muggle garage. There wasn't a car parked out front, but it could have been in the garage.

Harry approached the house across the street. He wondered for another countless moment if he should be doing this or not. Then he saw _him._ Yet it wasn't _him_, _he_ never smoked or had _his_ hair chopped short. But he looked just like _him._

When Harry reached the fence he had to stuff his hands in his pockets to hide the shivers. The young man saw him standing there, hands in his pockets.

"Hi." He appeared on the other side of the fence facing Harry. "May I help you with something?" His voice had a hint of sarcasm as if he thought Harry didn't need any help but simply felt obligated to ask the question anyway.

A million thoughts ran through Harry's head before he could come up with something that didn't sound completely insane.

"Yes I was wondering if a Mrs. Briar lives here." Harry asked politely.

"Yeah, my mom's out at the moment. I'm Paris." His smile was bright, too inviting for Harry's liking but none the less friendly. He extended his hand and Harry grasped it in a brief hand shake.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Harry thought to himself that Paris sounded just like his father. It was a small comment in the back of his head that he quietly brushed aside. He was here for something, something he needed. Something he wanted.

* * *

February

The weeks passed by slowly and steadily. Harry drifted between classes, Ginny and _his_ picture. He was getting good at just looking and looking. Ginny hadn't caught him staring at the picture since that one morning. Though by now all Harry had to do; if he really wanted; to stare was close his eyes and there would be _his_ picture with _her_.

It was starting to unnerve him. So he began to watch the snow melt instead. It was a strange winter. While in exams the snow stopped and it got warmer. Then it snowed again and again, until there was snow up to your knees. After that the snow just stopped and began to evaporate.

Harry forgot about his obsession, but his obsession didn't forget about him. Two days into his second term Hermione told him she was really close to finding the woman in the picture. Harry's insides twisted with the need to know what she had found out. They battled until he couldn't take it anymore and told Hermione to not bother with the search.

He had his life to live and his examiners had told him he needed to focus more if he wished to succeed in the Academe. Harry couldn't afford anymore distractions, no matter how tempting.

So there he was, Valentine's Day had come and gone, staring and not staring at _his_ picture. The woman was still removing the leaf from _his_ hair. They're looking at each other as if no one else in the world existed.

The whole thing was beginning to unnerve him. So he started watching the snow melt.

* * *

Dinner was a small affair. Paris didn't put too much into it. It was still good none the less.

Neither mentioned the tears that were shed earlier. Neither mentioned the continuously empty wine glass situated next to Harry's plate. It was an image reflected across the table from him at _her_ plate.

Paris mediated the meal, refilled glasses and kept small talk; small. He didn't mind, he heard so much about his father and was grateful for it. It was more than he had ever wished for.

Once dinner was finished and the plates cleared _she_ excused herself. Harry thought of going and kept glancing towards to entrance hall. Paris caught him at the corner of his eye as he poured them both more wine.

"You can stay in the guest room." The invitation sounded almost like a plea. Don't go, don't go, please stay.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother." Paris smiled weakly. "I'd like to hear more about _him_."

Harry nods and finished his glass of wine.

The next morning outside a light fog dusted the sky. Fall was coming. Where had all the time gone? Had it really been a year? Harry thought to himself as he snuggled deeper into the bed covers. He wondered what Ginny was doing. Was she okay? Was she thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her? This must be love. I should tell her this. I wonder what she would say.

Harry spent long moments thinking of her. He didn't notice Paris getting up from the bed and wander over to the attached bath. The man was silent, something he must have got from his father.

* * *

April

A reflexive sigh escaped between Harry's lips. His "report card"; as he liked to put it; declared that he had the highest passing grades in his class. It was no surprise to Harry. Everything he was tested on, he already knew. Life experience had its advantages.

The ministry atrium was packed for a Wednesday morning. People glanced and gawked as Harry walked towards the offices. He didn't care, he was on a mission and nothing could waylay him.

His nerves were buzzing, he has too much good news to contain. It must have shown on his face, for several people gave him smiles that wrinkled their whole face.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine." Drawled a voice Harry recognized all too well.

"Bugger off Malfoy." Harry replied without even giving the Malfoy a second look. Or even a first for that matter. Nothing would stop him.

"Awww, don't be that way." Malfoy purred sarcastically. He side stepped Harry and slipped in ahead of him forcing Harry to halt. "I've got a letter for you." He smiled.

Raising a questionable eyebrow Harry crosses his arms in front of his chest. Malfoy pulls out an envelope from his coat pocket and presented it to Harry. Harry gingerly takes the envelope for Malfoy's outstretched hand. Malfoy nods and then turns and continues down the hall. After a moment of bewildered thought, Harry continues on his own path. Malfoy's letter can wait.

Ginny's cubical is vacant and her neighbor didn't know when she would be back. Dropping in unannounced truly had its down falls. But Harry waited, and waited, and waited a little bit more.

When he was draped over the back and sides of Ginny's desk chair, an impulse to open Malfoy's letter slipped into Harry's daydreams. After all what could possibly go wrong? Malfoy would try harming him while he was in the ministry, but the little voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Hermione told him to leave it. Right next to that voice was the eerily creepy voice of Snape, whom at the moment was calling him a coward. It was that voice that pushed him up in the chair and hand his hand digging in his pocket for that letter.

It was a simple envelope, merely addressed to him in an elegant print. Far too feminine for Malfoy to manage, but who really knew right? There was a name though, small on the corner of the envelope, Briar.

Dear Mr. Potter,

First I would like to apologies for my tardy reply. I have been out of the country for several months visiting my daughter.

Ironically the woman whom you have been inquiring about is my daughter. I have yet to tell her about your inquiry. I felt you might do this yourself.

This is her address.

73 Kensington Park Drive

Alberta, Canada

I hope you find what you are looking for.

Sincerely,

Briar

It was signed again with that single name. Though it was the address that made Harry jump up from the chair and flutter around on the spot. Thankfully he was alone in the department since mostly everyone was out at meetings. He was quite a sight.

Ginny came in after his embarrassing butterfly dance, Harry was still holding up the letter. He was probably still smiling because Ginny's grin widened when she saw him.

"Good news?" She asked.

"Yes! Wonderful news." Harry hugged her pinning her around the small cubical.

After his bubbly and overly happy moment passed, the two of them sat down and Harry began telling her all about his good news. As they left for lunch, Harry (still on his happy high) stopped Ginny and told her he would meet her at the restaurant. He then fled back towards the lifts and headed straight for the political offices.

There sitting at the front desk was the Blond Harry was hoping to find. Gasping for air, he braced himself on the side of the front desk. Green met Gray.

Draco had looked up from his paper work to the sound of someone catching their breath. He was not expecting it to be Potter of all people.

"May I help you Potter?" his drawl was bordering on humorous as he stared Potter in the face.

Huffing Harry replied, "What are you doing for lunch?" He smiled warmly at the Blond.

Draco waved a few parchments in front of his face and gave Harry a _what-do-you-think_ kind of look. Harry laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Grab your coat."

"Excuse me?"

"Grab. Your. Coat." He pronounced each word with a teasing tone like he was talking to a small child. The corner of one of Malfoy's eyes twitched. He didn't like being talked to that way, but he knew Harry was only joking.

Hesitating for a moment Draco sets the papers in his hand on the desk, sighs and pushes his chair back from the desk. He grabs the black muggle coat off the hook behind his desk and follows Harry out of the office. No one was going to be back for a few hours anyway.

They shared small talk on the way down to meet Ginny. Many people gave them a double look considering who the pair where. It didn't seem to bother either of them in the slightest. At the restaurant Ginny gave them a raised eyebrow look but didn't comment on the fact that Harry had willingly invited Malfoy out to lunch.

Lunch was remarkably bearable event for all parties present. Harry and Draco carried on a civil conversation and Ginny added to it from time to time. If no one had known that Harry and Draco were school boy rivals then you would have assumed that they were close friends from the lunch they were sharing. The three of them even discussed their plans for the future. It was an uncanny event.

Harry made a mental note after lunch to invite Malfoy out for lunch again. He had to honestly admit to himself that he actually had fun chatting with the blond.

When he arrived at home, Harry went straight to the second floor study. It was Hermione's day off, so it was the most likely place for her to be. When he reached the open door, Hermione was there, reading, as always. Harry waited a few moments before striding into the room. She didn't look up right away but waved her hand towards an empty chair across from her. Once Harry sat down she placed her book down in her lap and looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey, Harry. Everything go ok?"

"Yeah, it went great." Harry's face broke into a dimple inducing smile. "I have the most wonderful news." He handed her the letter he had folded in his pocket. Hermione scanned the contents over once, paused then read the letter again. Once she handed it back to Harry, he wasted no time telling her every detail of his day (including the un-expected lunch with Malfoy).

Resting back into her chair, Hermione regards Harry with a critical look. "Well it seems we have a bit of work ahead of us now don't we." Her smile reflects the warm feeling filling Harry from the inside out.

* * *

Paris wanted him to stay the week. So Harry did. Yet that could not happen. Harry had come and done what he had set out to do and then some. He had his life to go back to, yet here he was temptation holding him here with Paris. So Harry compromised with himself.

Three days he concluded, it would give him a chance to take in the sites, enjoy a few good home cooked meals, and enjoy a warm bed partner.

There was nothing here to justify his actions. Harry could have said no. It would have been easy, if there hadn't been something there that drew him in.

They weren't the same person. Paris didn't smell like _him_. He didn't act like _him_. He didn't dress like _him_. But he dawn well possessed _his_ voice and _his_ way of talking. It was Paris' voice that dangerously dragged Harry down the rabbit hole. Memories that felt so old, so raw, to Harry were shaken free of their dust and pushed to the forefront of his mind. The emotions the followed this drowned Harry so much that he didn't know what he was doing but merely felt. He stopped thinking to help bloke out those memories and turning to just feeling. He felt and fed off those feelings till they were both spent and empty inside. It was a strange sensation to wake up to. Always half hoping it never happened, but knowing it did.

When Harry finished dressing the last morning there, he watched Paris sleeping. His slightly tan chest rising and falling gently in sleep made him look completely different, it made him look more like _him_. Yet with all that the only thing that Harry could see was a curtain of red satin. It was parted messily hiding and showing a creamy smooth back. That was all he could see. Her smile, her eyes, her face, every part of her, the way she breathed lightly in her sleep through slightly parted lips, her laugh and the way she cried in bed.

Paris had consumed that part of Harry's heart that had once belonged to the only family he had ever known, but she had consumed the rest of it and his soul to boot. Now he was returning to her. After all they belonged to each other, they always would.

Downstairs _she_ was sitting at the kitchen table a mug of coffee in her hands and the newspaper spread out before her. The clock above the stove read 6:15 am. Harry had an hour before his flight back home. So he decided to stay for a few minutes more.

"Morning."

"Morning."

Leaning against the counter, Harry poured himself some coffee into a waiting mug and waited.

"You should tell him your leaving."

"I did."

"He'll want you to come back."

"I know, but I won't."

"He knows that." _She_ takes a sip of coffee and folds the paper up into a neat pile. "Doesn't change what he wants."

Harry sighs. "It rarely does."

_She_ looks up from the neat pile _she's_ made of the paper, the front page glaring at her from under the mug _she's_ placed on top. "It's 6:20, you should better go."

As Harry turns to leave he says over his shoulder, "I never got your full name." _She_ smiles at him. This time the smile does reach _her_ eyes and Harry finally glimpses the woman he's come accustomed to seeing in the picture.

* * *

June

Too many things happened at once. Ron proposed to Hermione (finally). The twins opened up a new shop in France. This was really big since they paid for the whole family (significant others included) to the opening in France. Molly and Arthur were brimming with pride the whole time the family was there. A crowning achievement apparently. Neville announced his engagement with Luna (which shocked the whole lot.), and Bill and Fleur were having their second child.

So many things, so many good things. It left the mind reeling with euphoria that had nothing to do with really good shags. It left the body numb from so much running around and hugs and handshakes and flooing and too much non-shagging activities. It literally left no time for anything else. Harry hadn't even glanced once at _their_ picture for well over two months. The strangeness that Harry felt when he did chance a look was unsettling. A sure sign that it was time.

* * *

July

They sat across from each other, their feet brushing together. The wine made them smile like loons, they didn't care. They didn't care that the wedding was schemed in blood red and lime yellow. They didn't care that there were over four hundred other people there talking and dancing. Some were old school friends to members of the ministry to even goblins for Gringotts. It was a massive event.

They didn't care about the band or the toasts (except when Harry had to give his own). They didn't care that the bridesmaids dresses were pastel green. All they cared about was each other.

_I could spend the rest of my life with you._ Harry thought to himself as he stared back at Ginny while she stared back at him. Even the fact that her bridesmaids dress made his eyes water every time he had to look at it, he still wanted her. The fact that all he wanted to do was tear that dress off her body and ravish the woman beneath didn't go unnoticed. After all it seemed that that was all Harry could truly think about these past three and a half months.

A quick getaway was all they needed from this wedding. They soon got one.

* * *

Paris lay sprawled on the comforter, his legs were shaking and the sweetest of moans passed between his slightly parted lips. Harry bobbed his head sucking lightly on the thick cock in his mouth. Paris whimpered above him and he hummed at the satisfaction that he still could do this so skilfully.

"Ah… I… I can tell… you've done this…. before…" Paris panted as he clenched his buttocks trying to hold off his orgasm. Harry paused in his ministration to look him in the eye. _His _eyes, to be more accurate. That thought now barely unnerved him.

He shrugged moving higher on the bed till he is face to face with Paris. "It's been awhile." It's an offhand confession that doesn't have any more meaning than it's presenting.

"Oh, really?" Paris loops his legs around Harry's waist spreading himself completely open. Harry leans down and gently bits down on Paris' collar bone. He moans at the feel of teeth on his flesh and moves his hips forward to rub their stiff members together.

A growl escapes from Harry's mouth as he looks Paris in the eyes. So Paris does it again. The feeling is unbearable and Harry presses down on the man's hips to still his movements. It works for but a second as Harry reaches over to collect the small tube on the nightstand. Paris is impatient, Harry learned this from his first night, but the idea of prolonging their moment together drives Harry to take this as slow as he can for as long as he can.

When he tosses the tube haphazardly over the side of the bed, his left hand is slicked with the clear substance from the tube. Without so much as a warning his reaches down to Paris' waiting hole and shoves two fingers deep inside the tight hole.

The scream that issues from Paris's lips is filled with pain but also pleasure. And soon he's rolling his hips trying to pull Harry's digits deeper inside of him. Harry takes this as his cue to move on to something else. He doesn't add that final finger though, instead he uses the lube on that unused finger and the remaining lube on the fingers he slips out of Paris' hole and slicks his own straining cock.

He doesn't have to ask to know what the man below him wants. Paris enjoys the pain, the burn one feels when entered with minimal to no prep. Honestly Harry doesn't agree but he doesn't really think about it when he does start to push in. He goes slowly, relishing the mewling sounds that come shamefully from Paris' swollen lips. Then once he's fully inside he steals a bruising kiss. It's needing and tainted, but it feels oh so good as well. Harry's never kissed anyone else like this except for his first. Ginny wasn't he first.

Once they are both fully kissed and dazed from the lack of oxygen, Harry pulls himself almost completely out in one slow motion, pauses, then snaps his hips forward in a brutal motion. It causes Paris to scream out once again, more of the pain mixed with pleasure cries. Harry's pace is slow and greedy, he gives Paris exactly what he needs and when he hits that spot he smirks.

"Oh… GOD!" Paris gasps, his cries aren't mixed with pain anymore just pleasure.

Harry doesn't need to hear him say it as Paris begins to meet him thrust for thrust and he quickens his pace. He became more urgent more wild in his movements. His grunts and groans mix with Paris' pants and screams for more, harder, fast and he complies to everyone. They are moving so hard together that the bed begins to shake with each thrust in. It wouldn't be the first time that Harry's broken a bed. He'd so twice with Ginny, he wasn't planning on making tonight his third time.

"Oh… close… so fucking… close." Paris wraps his hands around Harry's shoulders pulling him to his chest. "Merlin… Harry… Harder!" With one final push in Harry feeling Paris' tight hole convulsing around him and he reaches between them to stroke his neglected cock. It too convulses the moment Harry touches it and with three, four strong strokes Paris is coming all over Harry's hand. The walls of Paris' hole tighten even more around Harry's cock as he keeps thrusting pulling Harry's orgasm from his nearly spent body and over the edge.

When Harry catches enough of his breath to move he carefully pulls himself out of Paris and slumps on the pillows next to him. He turns his head to speak but Paris beats him to it.

"I know… I know you have someone at home that you love. I know you don't have any true feelings for me, Harry. I knew all this the first time we slept together. I just wanted you to know that…

* * *

August

It was half way through August and already the weather was becoming bleak. Outside the window dark clouds loomed overhead. Mother nature was still debating on whether or not she wanted it to rain or to just simply stay cloudy. Secretly Harry hoped it would, that way he wouldn't have to leave.

Ginny and him had had their first major fight the other day and Harry wanted to stay to make things better. Yet he knew that if he didn't to this now that he would never do it. Which meant that _his_ picture would haunt him for the rest of his life. So Harry rechecked his luggage for the sixth time that morning, swiftly stuffed the picture in the fold of a maroon jumper and closed the case.

Ginny was in the library when Harry went to find her. She looked busy reading through a book and scribbling note here and there. Harry cleared his throat to grab her attention.

"Well, I'll be flooing to the airport in a few minutes." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. You could tell by his body language that he really didn't want to go.

Setting her quill down on the open book, Ginny walked over him. She looked up into his pleading emerald eyes, cupped her hands around his face, smiled sweetly then kissed Harry for all she was worth.

Twenty minutes later, a very happy Harry Potter emerged from the library to meet Ron on the landing heading to the fireplace in the kitchen. Ron gave him a small head shake at the expression plastered to his face, made a small comment on 'not wanting to know' and threw in the floo powder before Harry could step through.

With a very quick good bye and a good luck from Ron, Harry was on his way.

~*~

Two weeks earlier.

"Canada?"

"It's only for two weeks." Harry slid his hand down the bare back he had wrapped in his arms. Ginny's head rested on his chest and as Harry breathed her head moved up and down with the movements. "You could come with me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. They had had this conversation before. At least six times by Ginny's count. Her answer was always the same. "You know I can't, but thank you for asking." He turned her head till her chin rested on his chest. Their eyes met playfully and she tweaked one of his nipples before she continued. "Besides this is for you, not me."

A smile spread across Harry's face. She knew him too well. Sometime it felt like she could read his mind without magic. It was nice, for a change he did have to explain himself.

"So when are you leaving?" Ginny asked turning her head back so that she could keep resting it on Harry's chest.

"Hopefully in two weeks."

"Hopefully?"

Harry sighed. "There's some paper work that still needs to go through before I can go."

"Shitty."

He shrugs. "Yeah." Harry sighs deeply. He really didn't want to dwell on the amount of paper work there was involved with international Floo. Not to mention the additional paper work he had to compete for the passport as well. Then there was the incident when he finally went down to the main offices to submit his papers to get his passport and authorization.

Lucius Malfoy had been in the passport office, apparently he was on the committee board and was in to renew his own families passports. He brought back some very unwanted memories and unwarranted emotions. After quickly handing his papers and forms to the receptionist, Harry had to duck into the nearest toilet for half an hour before he felt safe enough to leave.

He shuddered recalling that day.

"Worth it though." Ginny's comment drew him back to their conversation.

"I suppose."

"Maybe you'll find what you're looking for while you're there." She said non-committedly into Harry's bare chest.

He took a moment to answer, weighing his words. "Maybe."

* * *

"… the feeling is mutual." Paris explained in a business like tone and manner. It was the first time they had talked after sex. Harry didn't have anything to say on his part, except…

"I'll be leaving in the morning. I've stayed too long as it is."

Paris nodded. As he climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, Harry turned his head to follow his movements. _He was a really good looking bloke_, Harry thought to himself, _but he held no flame in comparison_ (and Harry knew this from the start) _to Ginny_. Whom he would be leaving tomorrow for. Whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Whom he loved.

"Tomorrow I'll go to her." He mumbled under his breath as he fell asleep. All the while never knowing that Paris was weeping silently in the bathroom over what they had just done.

* * *

Several months later a letter arrived at Harry's house. The address stated that it had come all the way over from Canada. The fact that it carried two letters did escape Harry's attention.

Dear Harry,

I know I don't have any rights to be writing to you after what I put you through while you were here. The only thing that I wanted you to know was that I was sorry. I used you for my own selfish reasons and I should have said something sooner.

My life is a mess and before you came to visit my mother I didn't really see a reason to keep going. You see, just as you might have guess, I'm gay. I was engaged to the most wonderful man in world when he was brutally murdered. When I saw you that day you reminded me of him and I just couldn't help myself.

Ever since you left, I've been going out more and I've started to pick my life up again. The reason I'm telling you all this is because I did hear you when you mumble as you fell asleep. It was your love for that person that maybe realise how much I'm missing in my life.

Thank you so much Harry and I wish you a long and happy life.

Paris Briar.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope my son's letter hasn't upset you. I never looked at it when he asked me to send it to you, and this hasty reply of mine was just my way of reassuring myself that he hasn't gone and done something wrong without me knowing.

What every he's said to you, just know that he has a kind heart and would never intentionally harm another person.

Thank you for coming, and I hope you will visit us again in the future.

Yours senecerly,

Constance Briar Black.

* * *

A/N: Again please review and I hope you all liked it.


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